“I need the original transfer receipts from the study in the house,” Miller said.

“Can you get into his private desk tonight?”

“I still have the side door key,” I said.

I got to the Vance house at five thirty in the afternoon.

Eleanor sat in the green armchair beside the cold fireplace, turning the heavy pages of a velvet photo album while the brass clock ticked quietly on the mantelpiece.

I walked past her to the mahogany corner cabinet where the family Bible was kept.

“You’re supposed to be resting upstairs, Vivian,” Eleanor said, her low, purring voice filling the quiet room.